


Tummy Aches

by Marble_Ocean



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Set around the end of Therion's chapter three, mild mild h'aanrose because I can never resist, quite angsty in all the best ways~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marble_Ocean/pseuds/Marble_Ocean
Summary: In which seeing Darius again and taking down what Therion thought was just another flunky, unsettles the thief in ways he didn't anticipate.





	Tummy Aches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunacup/gifts).

“It’s in your hands, Gareth.” And without even a sparing glance for Therion, Darius left.

“Yes, sir!” Gareth had beamed with all the pride of a fool and set his sights on the travelers. His charged men rallied beside him, blades in hand. “I’ll take great pleasure in this.”

Therion was too focused on Darius’s back fading out of view to notice Alfyn grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the way of a throwing knife.

“C’mon, Therion! Stay with me now!”

“Sorry, I’m here.” Therion snapped back in focus, igniting Wildfire between his fingers. It burned in his palm as Therion hurled it towards a bandit and the fighting begun in earnest.

It took maybe three minutes for the battle to finish. Gareth lay crumpled in the dirt, surrounded by his dead lackeys with the dust kicking up around him as he writhed in his final movements. He had clashed head on with Therion, they swiped blades in flurry. Seeing Darius had obviously slowed Therion down, he wasn’t as agile as if the mere presence of his would-be murderer weighed on him like a ball and chain.

“Die you bastard!” Gareth had lunged at him.

“Therion!” Alfyn cried out as he just barely managed to avoid the weapon. 

Gareth reared and lunged once more-

Until one well-timed shot from H’aanit to brought him down. It was... grotesque, in a way, how the arrow jut out of his chest even as he lived, how it shuddered when he breathed. 

Therion watched as Alfyn bent down over him, never minding his bruises, as usual. 

“Keep still.” He said. “You’ll make it worse.”

“Bugger off.” Gareth wheezed, blood gargling his words. 

H’aanit raised her bow once more, a cold look in her eyes. Gareth glared back at her as she leveled her aim at his throat and waited.

“Easy now.” Alfyn reached into his satchel, meagerly adopting his bedside manner. “I can help make this better.”

“No one can make this better.” Gareth glowered. “I failed him… Lord Darius.”

“You failed yourself.” Therion said. “You never should have trusted him.”

“You wouldn’t understand, would you, tea leaf?” Gareth bit back with a snarl. “You don’t know what true loyalty is.” 

He certainly knew what it wasn’t but arguing with a dying man was always pointless. He chewed the inside of his cheek to stay anymore frustration from creeping into voice. “Neither does he.”

“I am honoured to die fo--” A hacking fit interrupted him, splattering blood onto the dirt.

“Where is Darius going?” Primrose asked. She had been observing up until this point since her recent injury had made H’aanit insist she not fight. “We’ll let you die quickly if you tell us.” She didn’t bother to mask her disdain with her familiar sugar-sweet voice.

Gareth wheezed. “What did I just say about loyalty, you stupid bit--” He was cut off by H’aanit taking it upon herself to press her heavy boot onto his chest. His pained cry echoed throughout the cave. Alfyn grimaced, Primrose smiled just a little. If it were anyone else under H’aanit’s foot, Therion wouldn’t have minded but... 

“H’aan.” Therion said. H’aanit didn’t look at him, simply stared down at Gareth, her face completely unreadable. After a moment, she stepped off without a word. 

Therion crouched down beside Alfyn, grunting as his stomach suddenly hissed in pain. When did he get hurt? Gareth was breathing hard and heavy, baring his teeth like a cornered dog and Therion decided it didn’t matter. “He won’t remember your name, Gareth.” Therion offered as sincerely as he could muster. “He knows how capable I am, he let you die here.”

Gareth looked away but Therion could see his posture slump, his breathing slow down and when he looked back, his eyes had welled up with tears. This man deserved pity above all else, Therion thought, Darius knew how to twist and mangle others like the best of them.

“I know…” Gareth choked weakly. “I know you’re right but…” He gripped desperately at Therion’s scarf. “He remembered _ your _ name.”

Therion took hold of his wrist. “Let Alfyn help you--!”

But Gareth had breathed his last and his body went limp. Alfyn stilled for a while before packing his instruments away. H’aanit retrieved her arrow from Gareth’s body with ease while Primrose placed a hand on Therion’s shoulder.

“He made his choice.” She said unflinchingly. “Therion, the next one is yours.”

He felt as hollow as Gareth’s now lifeless eyes and he imagined for a moment, Darius standing over Gareth as he once did Therion, with a smile that creased the scar on his face. He took everything from Therion and now, he had done it to another.

He stood up, despite his injury. “We go after the dragonstones. We go after Darius.” He tried to sound convicted, sure of himself.

H’aanit was checking the bloodied flint of her arrow when she spoke. “I’ll taketh a look upon his trail, I shalle see if I can tracken his movement.”

Therion couldn’t quite bring himself to smile in gratitude but gave her a nod regardless. “Thanks, H’aan.” 

“Tis what I do best.” She offered her arm out to Primrose. “Comen, love, thou canst ben my second pair of eyes.”

“Of course.” Primrose took her arm before smiling at Therion, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll get him.” 

Alfyn took the time to close Gareth’s eyelids before standing up himself. “Take care, ladies.” His voice was solemn, Therion hated to hear it like that.

H’aanit shot him a strange, pointed look before leaving with Primrose. He didn’t dwell on it but he did, however, dwell on Alfyn. He hadn’t taken a single serious hit during the fight but something appeared to prick at him as he sighed.

“Are you okay?” Therion asked, finding his throat dry.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He fiddled with the flap of his satchel. “Jus’ need some rest. I think y’all do too.” He patted Therion’s back in one of his usual gestures of friendship. 

Never mind that they had been gathering close under the cover of night and playfully whispering of _ more _than friendship. He tentatively reached for Alfyn’s hand, he took it and squeezed tightly. It felt foolish but it was a comfort, Alfyn’s hands were calloused and well practiced at his art, just like his own. 

The walk back to the tavern was a long one, feeling longer still when dusk swept over the sands and nightfall descended. Alfyn didn’t let go the whole time but Therion couldn’t help but think of Darius tearing him away. 

“How do you feel?” Alfyn prodded carefully.

Therion’s gaze reached up to the stars, perched up there like they were all those years ago while he lay face up at the bottom of a cliff. He let go of Alfyn’s hand. “I’ve been worse. But you’re right, I need rest.” They paused by his doorway.

Alfyn looked conflicted for a moment, looking from Therion to the hallway. Therion wanted to invite him in, to tell him to hold him and not let go. “G’night, Therion.” He said eventually and leaned down to kiss his cheek. It burned.

“Night.”

He entered his room without looking back.

~*~

Therion bundled his scarf in his hand and bit down hard on it. Preemptively seething, his poured the alcohol onto the wound on his stomach, his muffled cry successfully strangled. Gods it _ hurt _but nobody needed to hear about it. 

_This is what you get for feeling sorry for yourself, idiot._

He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, self-deprecation or self-reflection. Life was about surviving and you can’t waste time doing either. The wound stung like a thousand bug bites, if only he hadn’t lapsed in concentration for just _ one _second. He waited for the pain to cease a little before wrapping himself up in bandages he stole off Alfyn.

Alfyn...

He was going to be so upset. Therion could see it now, his nose scrunched up in anger, hair tousled as he shook his head in disbelief. 

_ “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” _He would yell.

Therion couldn’t help but trace his fingers over his lips, wondering how many near kisses they had shared and everytime without fail, fear had pulled Therion away. Now Darius had come back into his life and threatened to rip apart everything he had so carefully crafted. His persona, his livelihood, his friends. 

That was the hardest part, acknowledging the fact that he still had things Darius could take. What had he taken from poor Gareth?

His wound bit hard and he stared at the bed, feeling inclined to make use of it. He sat down and let his head hang down. When staring at the floorboards didn’t provide any answers, he leaned back and tried the ceiling but again, nothing came to him. 

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep when a heavy knock came at the door. Therion didn’t answer, really, really, not wanting the company.

“Tis me.” H’aanit, to Therion’s surprise, called from the other side. “I’ll not botheren thee for long but pray, hearen me out.”

He begrudgingly stood up, cringing as his stomach protested. He opened the door partially and glared limply at H’aanit’s towering form. Her moss-green eyes met his, looking calm yet somehow containing an incredible amount of intensity.

“What do you want?” He grumbled and then remembered the task H’aanit set herself and Primrose. “Did you find him?”

“Tis hard to track in the sands.” H’aanit said, a little frustration seeping through. “Alas, tis safe to sayen they headeth North, perhaps to the dragonstones’s next location. Mayhaps you know it?”

Therion pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “No. We’ll have to head back to Cordelia.” He was already frustrated thinking about it. 

H’aanit hummed thoughtfully. “How is thy injury?” She asked, just the faintest hint of concern in her usually stoic voice.

“Fine.” He stood up a little straighter, as if to prove his lie. “How did you know?”

“Thinkest me unobservant?” H’aanit crossed her arms, an eyebrow raising. 

“No.” Therion conceded. It was hard to get irritated at H’aanit, she was as loyal as one could get. “Look, was there something else you needed?”

“I requeste that thou seekest out Alfyn. I know thou liest when thy words say thou art well. I see thy grimace as thou walketh, I am getting betteren at reading humans. So sayeth Primrose.” She smiled fondly for a flicker of a moment before her stern face returned. 

Therion puffed out air between his teeth. “So your girlfriend says one thing and now you’re an expert?”

H’aanit’s thick brows creased in mild indignation. “I claimen not to have expertise in the matter. I saw thee hide thy pain and tis simply not wise to ben stubborn about it.”

“What right do you have to tell me what to do?” He was being needlessly aggressive, they both knew it. He looked penitently to the floor as H’aanit stared him down.

Still, she spoke slowly and patiently, without a flicker of disapproval. “Seems thy usual good natured wit is lacking. I merely requested thou seekest the one man who coulde helpen thee the most. He resideth in his quarters, tired with all the worrying that boy doth madden himself with.”

Therion scoffed. “Pot calling the kettle black much? You were beside yourself when Primrose nearly…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence when he saw the subtle change in H’aanit he couldn’t read. “I’m sorry.” 

H’aanit appeared to hesitate, how unlike her. “Perhaps he is fearing grief, as I did.” Her voice had tightened, Therion didn’t like it. “I senseth a rapport with him that thou doth not sharen with the rest of us.Thou lookest torn twixt fear and rage when Darius made himself known, would I ben Alfyn, I would hath ben fearful for thy life. Nay, I was regardless. We care for thee.”

Therion could hardly imagine that he would be mourned for, he always thought he’d die comfortably after having given away all his riches, alone and content. Yet the idea of anyone, especially Alfyn, missing him throttled him.

“I’ll think about it.” He grumbled non-commitaly.

H’aanit bowed her head a tad, apparently satisfied with his answer. “Excellent. Now, I muste attendeth to my quarters. Goodnight, Therion.” 

“Night.”

And with that she walked away, leaving Therion to stare at the ground where she stood. 

After a few agonising moments, he retrieved the bandages and mumbled curse words all the way to Alfyn’s room. Damn H’aanit for making him see sense. He knocked the door immediately on approach, not allowing himself time to overthink.

“Comin’.” Came an utterly miserable response. Alfyn opened up moments later, looking completely defeated. “Therion.” He gaped.

“That’s me.” Therion shrugged, the fools bangle jingling on his arm. “I just came to see how you are, you seemed shook up earlier. Are you really alright?”

Alfyn moved aside and gestured for Therion to enter. “I should be askin’ that of yerself.” 

Therion stepped inside his room, noting the pastels and various other concoctions lying about on the table. He must have been planning an all-nighter with all of these. He felt the weight of Alfyn’s hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off. 

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. 

“Really? That’s not what the blood right there is tellin’ me.” Of course Therion had left his poncho behind, revealing all. Alfyn circled, eyeing him up and down for more injuries when he settled on the rather poorly bandaged job on his stomach. He seemed a little more alert than before, perhaps because Therion had given him something he could work on. “Lemme take a look.”

Therion didn’t move but his heart sure was thundering in his chest. He watched as Alfyn slowly undid his haphazard job, how his tongue stuck out just a tad as he was concentrating. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” He asked, far more gently than Therion’s furious imagination. “Ya don’t have to answer me but… ya know I care, right?”

Therion felt heat rush to his face in shame and from how Aflyn’s hands framed his torso so carefully. Alfyn looked up at him, his green eyes glistening, Therion reached down to preemptively wipe his cheek with his thumb. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Therion tried to reassure but sure enough the tears fell from Alfyn’s eyes.

“How could I not?” Alfyn pulled away from him and began rummaging through his satchel. “The wound doesn’t look deep, let me take care of it.” It felt like an obligation to protest at this point but Alfyn cut him short, hand in the air to silence him. “Don’t put up a fight, now.”

As Alfyn began mixing up his salve, Therion stood there fists clenching and unclenching till he came back medicine in hand. He began applying it right away. The pain made him hiss at first but slowly it subsided as the salve soothed his wound and his nerves. Though medicine wasn’t magic, it certainly felt like it. Eventually- as the blood was wiped away and the bruising calmed- a small slice into his flesh revealed itself.

“Looks like I won’t be giving Primrose a run for her money.” Therion chuckled darkly. Alfyn cracked a tiny smile himself, they both knew Primrose would be laughing with them despite how grave her injury was. “Can’t believe we nearly lost her to that creep.” 

“I could same the ‘bout you.” Alfyn finished bandaging him up but he lingered, fixated. Therion watched his long lashes flutter as he seemed to struggle to speak. “When I saw you _ see _him- how you…” His breathing shuddered. “I ain’t ever heard you gasp like that ‘n I don’t wanna hear it again. And then Gareth—!”

Therion ran his hand through his soft hair. This man was on his knees and crying for him, Therion never felt so loved and fearful in all his life. “Hey, now, I wasn’t even hurt much.” His voice wobbled a bit as his boundaries came crumbling down.

“Maybe not physically.” Alfyn ran his broad hands over Therion’s stomach and stood, his hands following up, over Therion’s chest, framing his neck then cupping his cheeks. It was a comfortable sensation, like being caressed by a familiar old blanket that kept him warm in the winter nights. Alfyn was just unrelenting soft, but the way his fingertips pressed lovingly into his skin spoke of strength and safety. “But here…” He kissed the top of Therion’s head. “I’m worried he hurt ya here.”

Therion didn’t say anything, he thought of Gareth and his life snuffing out before he even shed his final tears. 

“I…” Therion tried, he so desperately tried to tell Alfyn how much it hurt to see Darius again. How he saw himself in Gareth.

Alfyn waited for him to continue, face etched lovingly with concern. Fear be damned. He grabbed Alfyn by his collar and pulled him down for a rigorous kiss. He did what he did best. He took and took and took but he wanted to cry as Alfyn was all too willing to give. 

His arm came around his waist, his hand caressed his cheek and the two pressed together desperately.

“It’s okay.” Alfyn said against his lips. “It’s okay, Therion, I’m here.”

He thought of Darius and bit down on Alfyn’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan. He thought of Gareth and ran his hands through Alfyn’s hair. He wanted to be consumed by him, devoured until he no longer felt like a boy just-scarred at the bottom of a cliff. 

“Don’t leave me, Alfyn.” He said, his breath hitching as Alfyn kissed his neck tenderly. “Don’t leave.”

“M’not goin’ anywhere.” Alfyn soothed, moving his kisses up to Therion’s cheek. Gods above he was soft, so soft that Therion felt like he would rip him up.

He wrapped around him and clung tight. His wound ached but he didn’t care, Alfyn was medicine enough. They settled into a rhythm of gentle kisses and deft touches, eventually falling back onto the bed.

Alfyn fell asleep first, snoring quietly. Therion looked up at his face, gaze painfully tender as he ran his thumb over the stubble on his chin. _ I won’t let him take you. _ He promised in the dark and nestled his face into his neck and took in his medicinal, earthy scent. _ I won’t let him take me. _

Therion would wake up tomorrow frightened but loved. He’d get the dragonstones from Darius and now, he won’t die alone.


End file.
